


Brightest Shade of Sun

by AnaliseGrey



Series: Deep, Deep Under [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: BDSM, Consensual Kink, Dom Caleb Widogast, Guilt, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Rope Bondage, Sexytimes, Shadowgast, Smut, Spanking, Sub Essek Theylass, Subspace, accidental levitation, consensual power exchange, enchanted lube, so ya know- be kind please., themes of forgiveness, use of magic in a bdsm scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:15:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25117486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnaliseGrey/pseuds/AnaliseGrey
Summary: Every once in awhile, Essekwants.He wouldn’t call ityearning, per se; that word has a whole mess of connotations that he isn’t comfortable looking at too closely, and it doesn’t really encapsulate the sort of arrangement between Caleb and himself -but hewants, something intangible and difficult to define.Thankfully, as stated, they have an arrangement.
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast
Series: Deep, Deep Under [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2102400
Comments: 22
Kudos: 175





	Brightest Shade of Sun

**Author's Note:**

> I'd completely forgotten I'd started writing this until two days ago and in a flash of activity finished it. I tried to tag everything, but if I've missed something, please let me know, and I'll add it.
> 
> This takes in some nebulous time in the future, where Caleb's high-enough level to cast Magic Mansion, and Essek is high-enough level to cast Morals.
> 
> Title taken from the song Like the Dawn, by The Oh Hellos.

Every once in awhile, Essek _wants_.  
  
He wouldn’t call it _yearning_ , per se; that word has a whole mess of connotations that he isn’t comfortable looking at too closely, and it doesn’t really encapsulate the sort of arrangement between Caleb and himself -but he _wants_ , something intangible and difficult to define.

Thankfully, as stated, they have an arrangement.

On the days when his thoughts are too heavy, and he can bring himself to do so, Essek sends a message to check that Caleb is home and amenable.

It goes like this-

“I am in your hands,” he says. “Punish me as you see fit.”

Caleb looks at him, and it’s a look he’s familiar with even if he still hasn’t come up with a good response to it other than to do his best not to squirm in the face of it. There’s calculation, and want, and an intensity that seems to go right through him as Caleb looks him over, as he does every time they do this; as if he’s searching for any indication that Essek is lying, that he’s coming at this from a place of hurt and self-loathing instead of whatever it is that compels Essek to seek out Caleb’s special attentions.

Finding what he’s looking for Caleb nods, waves him in the door of the Xhorhaus. He leads Essek to his room after letting Veth know they’ll be indisposed for awhile, and reaches for his spell book and his component pouch once they’re inside and Caleb’s locked the door.

“You know the rules, _schatz_. Strip, and I will be with you in a few minutes.”

Essek takes his time, meticulous as always as he removes his mantle, setting it aside carefully so it will wrinkle as little as possible. Then come the under robes, his boots, small clothes, all folded and set aside neatly on the small trunk near the desk. By the time Caleb is done with his casting and the door has appeared in the air in front of them, Essek has been sitting, naked and reserved, on the edge of Caleb’s bed for a few minutes already. He knows his control of the situation won’t last- that’s the whole point of these games they play- but he isn’t ready to hand that over yet, doesn’t know that he _can_ willingly, or if Caleb will need to wrest that control from him.

He can’t quite suppress a shiver at the possibilities.

Caleb gestures and the door swings open. He nods towards the entrance, and Essek walks in, head held high as it always is when they first begin.

The slate floor is pleasantly warm under his bare feet, and he hums appreciatively as he continues in, making way for Caleb to follow behind. Caleb has a mind for detail, he’s found, a wonderful quality in a wizard, and an even better one in a playmate.

A hand falls on his shoulder and Essek comes to a stop where he is, arms loose at his sides as Caleb comes around in front of him; with his feet flat on the floor Caleb is an inch or so taller than he is, and it never fails to cause a warm flutter in his belly at having to look up to meet Caleb’s eyes.

“You ask me to punish you,” Caleb says, voice quiet and curious. “How bad do you think you have been?”

Tilting his chin up, Essek holds Caleb’s gaze, and says nothing.

“Ah.” A small smile quirks up the corners of Caleb’s lips. “It is to be that sort of evening, then. Come with me.” He turns and starts heading across the foyer, then stops and looks back over his shoulder at Essek, eyebrow quirked. “Unless I need to make you?”

There again, the pleasant twist in Essek’s gut, the rush of pushing boundaries, of taking risks, but safely. There is control to be had here, even if it won’t be him wielding it by the end of the evening.

“Perhaps you do.”

The words come out more clipped than he intends, and he almost flinches back from his own words. Caleb doesn’t seem bothered, only nods and lifts a hand in Essek’s direction. Essek recognizes the spell even as Caleb’s hand twists in the somatic components- he’s the one who taught him, after all- but he doesn’t bother to resist. The tendrils of magic wrap around him and _squeeze_ , lifting him up off the ground by a bare few inches, just enough for Essek’s toes to clear the slate. The hold is gentle enough considering what he knows the spell to be capable of; Caleb is always so careful.

Nodding in satisfaction, Caleb turns to continue across the entryway towards a door, and with a crook of his finger Essek finds himself floating along behind, helpless to stop his forward progress.

The room Caleb brings him to is familiar, though it changes a little each time Caleb summons the mansion. There are cushions and pillows strewn about as if a housewares shop has exploded nearby, with a single oversized chair and overstuffed foot stool in the center. Along the walls are cabinets full of what Essek knows to be supplies for their encounters, though he can’t begin to guess what’s inside at any given time. There are some items that remain consistent, though there are some known to change at Caleb’s whim.

Caleb guides him over to the foot stool and lowers him so he’s seated on it, but doesn’t release the spell just yet, taking hold of Essek’s chin and tilting his head up so their eyes meet.

“I am going to let this spell drop while I get what I need. You are going to sit here and be still, _ja_?”

Tongue darting out to wet his lips, Essek holds his gaze as he tests the hold of the spell. It doesn’t budge.  
  
“What if I do not?”

Caleb’s regard sharpens in a way that holds Essek to his seat like a pinned insect as his fingers tighten on Essek’s chin. “You don’t yet know what I am already planning to do to you. Why are you so ready to invite more suffering?”

Essek swallows, and suddenly it’s much harder to meet Caleb’s eye.

“Perhaps I deserve it.” Of course _now_ is when his words come softer, less sure.

Caleb hums, but lets go of Essek’s face and the spell at the same time before patting Essek’s cheek and turning towards one of the cabinets. “I will be the judge of that.”

He returns a few moments later with lengths of rope that shine a burnished metallic gold. If past experience is any indication, Essek knows how they’ll feel- soft as silk, but strong as iron- as well as how they’ll look. The gold always gleams so beautifully against his dark skin, a fact Caleb has commented on often enough. There’s a reason he opts to line his eyes in gold when he’s looking to capture Caleb’s notice.

“You will tell me if anything pinches, hurts, or if you begin to loose circulation.”

Essek gives him a look, but Caleb just smiles in response. “I am more than capable of making you suffer without hurting you, _schatz_ , and I have every intention of making you suffer. Doing you unintentional harm, however, is not in my plans for the evening, so you _will_ tell me if anything is a problem, is that understood?” His voice doesn’t get louder, or more forceful, but Essek can _feel_ it, that intensity, bearing down on him and the weight is more than welcome.

“Yes, Caleb.”

“Good. Arms behind your back, then.”

Caleb gets to work winding the ropes around Essek’s upper arms to create cuffs of a sort, and as he does Essek finds himself losing focus. It’s not an uncommon occurrence. He knows Caleb finds the work meditative, and he has to say, as the recipient of Caleb’s dedicated intent, he does as well. All he has to do in this moment is be still and move where Caleb moves him. For all the pent up tension he’d had only minutes ago, it now feels as if he’s made of clay, ready to be shaped into whatever form Caleb sees fit to mold him.

He’s unsure when his eyes drift shut, only that some time later there’s a hand at his shoulder again, warm and calloused, and it takes effort to open his eyes again, to focus. It’s tempting to settle into the lull, knows Caleb would let him if he so chose, but that’s not what he’s after tonight. So instead he tugs at his arms, feeling the pull and constriction of the bindings that now pull his arms together behind his back from bicep to wrist. He’s flexible, far more than most give him credit for, and he’s never more grateful for it than when Caleb has him in his web. The ropes hold firm, just as he knew they would, and he takes a moment to tug harder, to pull and struggle just to feel the delicious vulnerability that much more.

“ _Alles gut_?”

A breath puffs warm against Essek’s ear, making it twitch slightly. He hadn’t realized Caleb was quite so close.

“Yes, it’s- it’s very good.”

A quiet hum from behind him, and then Caleb steps around, hands on his hips as he looks Essek over again. Whether it’s a heavier look, or just that he feels it more now, naked and bound and at Caleb’s mercy, Essek doesn’t know, but he certainly feels the effect of it, the pleasant prickle of warmth at Caleb’s regard.

Taking a step closer, Caleb crowds in, and Essek spreads his legs to accommodate him, flashing warm at how he must look. Bending down, Caleb captures his lips in a kiss before pulling back with a smile.

“We will do good work here tonight, you and I.”

The way Caleb says it, Essek could almost think they were about to work on a spell together or discern some new facet of ancient history, instead of what he knows- _hopes_ \- is coming.

Caleb is going to take him to his component parts, and he is going to be nothing but thankful for the experience.

Threading his fingers through Essek’s hair, Caleb takes a moment petting him, and Essek can certainly understand all the purring Frumpkin does. His eyes are sliding shut again when Caleb’s fingers tighten and tug, pulling so that Essek has to let his head fall back at an angle. He fights it for a moment, enjoying the sting of pulled hair before he gives in and bares his throat.

“So,” Caleb says, face neutral. “You wish me to punish you. Should I make you account for your misdeeds yourself? Or shall I state them for you?”

Essek’s face twists, an outward show of the turmoil inside. He has so many things he should be sorry for, he knows. They don’t always weigh on him this way, but when they do, they seem endless, impossible to make a proper accounting of. How many people has he hurt in his relatively short span of a life, whether through intentional misdeed and hubris or unintentional naive floundering? It’s impossible to know, and he thinks that might be what weighs on him the most- no matter how he tries, how much he strives to fix what he’s done, he will never know the full extent of it, will never be able to fix it all, and that is something he will need to live with, for however long that is.

He can feel himself starting to freefall down that particular mental spiral, but then he’s caught short by the hand still in his hair, giving a rough shake and snapping him out of his thoughts.

“I think perhaps this evening I will do it for you.”

Caleb moves him off the foot stool he’s seated on and down to the floor on one of the many piles of cushions so he’s laid out, his arms trapped beneath him. Caleb lays down at his side, his warmth noticeable even through the layers of clothing he still wears. He runs a hand down Essek’s front, from chest to belly, letting his hand come to a stop there, grounding and warm.

“Hmm, where to begin.” Caleb lifts his hand and uses a fingertip to draw meaningless patterns across Essek’s skin. “It’s true you have done many things you might want to make up for- stole precious artifacts of your home country, conspired with an enemy faction, instigated a war-” Caleb pauses as though in thought, though his hand doesn’t still. “You have come a long way since then. The Beacons are returned, you have assisted in the downfall of the aforementioned enemy faction, and helped bring peace to both nations, if indirectly. You continue to push your country’s leadership towards less-violent action when you can, towards more open-mindedness, and that is not nothing.”

“Caleb-” Essek shifts such that he can, the other man’s words sitting uncomfortably within him.

“Oh, I was not yet finished.” Caleb’s hand flattens, and he begins sweeping his palm back and forth in a petting motion. “You have been an incalculable asset to our group in our work, in helping right our own wrongs, though of course we value you for who you _are_ , not what you can do for us.”

“Caleb, _please_ -” Essek is twisting in his bindings again, discomfited, though he knows what Caleb says is true; _all_ of it is true, especially the last part, and that is perhaps what he finds hardest to fathom. Despite everything he’s done, and despite the fact that they _know_ what all he’s done, his friends have not only not abandoned him, but have pulled him closer, as if out of spite to the universe.

 _Caleb_ has not abandoned him, and he doesn’t know what to do with that, sometimes. It makes no _sense_.

“I told you,” Caleb says, hand skimming lower, knuckles brushing over Essek’s length, light as a feather, infuriatingly gentle. “I am perfectly capable of making you suffer without causing you harm.” He smiles, fond, and Essek would bury himself under the mound of pillows if he could, to escape the kindness on Caleb’s face. Caleb’s hand shifts, elegant fingers closing around Essek’s cock, holding, but nothing more, before Caleb leans down, his lips a hair’s breadth from Essek’s. “And I have _every_ intention of delivering what you’ve asked for.”

And then Caleb's hand begins to move.

He doesn’t know where Caleb learned this, the skill to build pleasure to a peak and then leave it there, hanging, frustratingly close before allowing it to ebb away, to recede like a tide. Over, and over, and over again Caleb spins him up, seeming to pull Essek’s desire and pleasure from him like silver thread on a spindle, only to let him dangle at the precipice, unable to drop.

After the fifth or sixth time- Essek has long since lost count- he starts to beg, to struggle against his bindings, to writhe against the soft fabric of the cushions beneath him; but Caleb is good as his word, continuing on despite, or perhaps encouraged by, Essek's pleas for mercy.

It takes Essek a moment to realize when Caleb stops, that while he floats on a buzzing pulse of arousal, for now, this particular torment has ceased. Leaning over him, Caleb watches him intently, eyes crinkling in a smile when Essek catches his gaze.

“There you are. We are not yet finished, there is more yet for you to endure, I’m afraid. Are you up to the challenge?”

Essek licks his lips, forces himself to focus. “As ever, I am in your hands, Caleb. Punish me as you see fit.”

Seeing whatever he was searching for, Caleb nods. “Alright then. Up you come.” Pulling back, Caleb gets a grip on Essek’s shoulders and helps him up to kneeling. While Essek takes a moment to settle, Caleb sits on the stool, and when he deems enough time has passed, snaps his fingers, pointing to his lap. “Here, _schatz_ , on your belly.”

Heat tinges Essek’s face and the tips of his ears. He knows what Caleb's asking, and there’s no graceful way to accomplish it, especially with his arms bound as they are. He still does his best and wobbles to his feet, taking the few short steps it takes to get to Caleb’s side. He looks down at Caleb’s legs, and bends at the waist trying to lower himself as gently as he can.

He’s right; getting into position is impossible to do gracefully, and he drops across Caleb’s lap with a quiet huff of air. Above him, Caleb laughs, and with a pat to Essek’s ass, urges him into position.

Face heating further, Essek wriggles forward, digging his toes into the carpet to propel himself forward until he’s as situated as he thinks he can get. It’s difficult to keep his feet on the floor on this position, at this height; the only way to really accomplish it is to keep his legs slightly bent, and his thighs and calves already burn with the effort. He squirms again, trying to settle, and gasps at the movement of his cock against the fabric of Caleb’s trousers. A warm hand smooths over the curve of Essek’s ass, drawing his attention.

“I don’t believe I’m going to make you count, this evening,” Caleb says. “I think we will perhaps go until I am satisfied.”

The hand on him pets down once, over his ass to his thighs, and then lifts away. Essek has the briefest second to mourn the loss of warmth from Caleb’s hand when it returns alongside the burning sting of an open-palmed strike. The impact hurts, if only for a second, and he barely has the chance to process it before Caleb’s hand is drawing back and falling again.

And again.

And again.

Caleb spanks him until it feels as if his ass must surely be glowing brightly as the inside of a Luxon beacon, until he can’t help but struggle again, to feel Caleb’s ropes around him, to feel Caleb’s legs under him, Caleb’s free hand at his wrists, all holding him in place to receive his punishment.

But should punishment feel this _good_?

Caleb comes to the same realization soon enough, too soon for Essek’s liking. His hand comes down one last time and then stays there, massaging the blazing skin of Essek’s ass. Even through the sting, it feels good, and Essek presses up on his toes with legs that tremble, trying to press back into the touch.

Caleb sighs, and it feels like disappointment, like a failure, and Essek drops back to Caleb’s lap in an attempt to curl in on himself.

“It seems patience is still a virtue we need to work on. But that is alright. I have a plan for that as well. You will learn, or you will suffer. Which comes first is up to you.”

He fiddles with some small spell component and Essek finds himself lifting gently into the air. It’s not the same spell as earlier, and Caleb’s hands are quickly on him again, shifting him horizontally and over so that he faces the ceiling. From there, Caleb moves quickly, fetching a large seat cushion and positioning it under Essek; it’s large enough to support his upper body and hips, stopping just at the top of his thighs, leaving him feeling very exposed. Pulling his hand from his pocket again, Caleb murmurs the words and slaps a handful of gold dust to the bottom of the cushion, and Essek feels it stabilize under him, immoveable. With a nod of satisfaction, Caleb moves closer, positioning two more much smaller cushions under Essek’s spread thighs, and performs the spell again, once for each, leaving Essek’s calves and feet to dangle over thin air.

“Caleb, this is too much, the components alone-”

“Unless it is what I am doing to you specifically that you object to, I will thank you to let me mete out your punishment with the tools at my disposal.” The look Caleb levels at him is quelling, and Essek’s mouth snaps shut with a click of teeth. “That is what I thought.”

Caleb runs his hands up and down Essek’s inner thighs, leaving trails of leftover gold dust behind to smear on his skin, and he realizes what a convenient height Caleb’s put him at. A few minutes later the levitation spell drops, and Essek is supported only by the cushions held in mid-air by magic, magic _he_ taught Caleb.

From another pocket, Caleb pulls a small glass bottle of gently-sparkling golden-hued liquid. 

“I suppose now is when we’ll see how apt a student you are, _Nachtblüte_.”

Uncapping the bottle, Caleb dips a finger inside, and when he pulls it back out, the liquid inside has clung, making his skin sparkle gold. Essek watches, fascinated, as Caleb lowers his finger between Essek’s legs, stroking over sensitive skin. Essek arches into the contact, the slick slide of touch over his entrance after being wound up for so long a lot to bear. Caleb circles the tight ring of muscle, never pressing in, just circling until the oil soaks in, before wetting his finger anew and beginning again.

Biting his lip, Essek strives for patience, fights to hold still, even though Caleb seems intent on driving him to madness. Finally, _finally_ , Caleb deigns to press in, though with such calculated slowness Essek fears the other man will die of old age before they progress much further. He squirms, trying to press down, but Caleb only draws his finger back, dipping again into the bottle before twisting his hand in a somatic gesture Essek doesn’t recognize. Before he can ask about it, a pleasant tingling starts up everywhere the oil has touched him thus far, and he chokes on a noise, hips bucking up into the air.

“If you try to rush me, _liebling_ , I will make you wait longer, with only the oil for company.”

Caleb sets to work again, opening Essek up slowly, gently, twisting his finger in what Essek can only guess is the same gesture as the oil sets about a new wave of intense tingling.

“Just imagine, all this sensation, and nothing to fill you up to go with it. Are you willing to risk that for a short moment of pleasure now?”

Barely choking back a whine of frustration, Essek shakes his head. “No, Caleb.”  
  
“Good boy.”

Caleb adds a second finger, pressing and stretching, and Essek _knows_ he’s ready, wants to beg again, but bites it back, trying for the patience Caleb seems to want from him. It’s far more difficult than he wants to admit to, that proud Essek Theylass, Shadowhand of the Dynasty, left hand to the Bright Queen, can be brought low so effectively by some enchanted lubricant and a couple of fingers up his ass.

He shudders as Caleb twists his fingers in a new arrangement, and the lube warms significantly along with the tingling.

“ _Ah_ \- ah, you’re full of surprises, it seems.”

Caleb hums in acknowledgement.

“I will take you apart, piece-by-piece, just as promised, _mein liebling_ , and it will be at _my_ pace, not yours.”

The casual command in Caleb’s voice does something to Essek’s insides, combining with the effects of the lubricant to make him squirm and writhe under Caleb’s ministrations. By the time Caleb adds a third finger at the same glacial pace, Essek’s control is unspooling, gasps and pleas spilling from him that he has no way to stop.

“I do seem to remember you saying I should punish you as I saw fit,” Caleb says, a fingertip brushing light and torturously over the bundle of nerves inside Essek that sends sparks up his spine. “Do you think you have done your penance?”

Essek can’t formulate a coherent response. Caleb presses again, much more firmly this time, and Essek’s back arches up off the cushion, a cry pulled from him as with a hook.

“ _Please-_ ”

Tutting, Caleb withdraws his fingers entirely.

“As lovely as you sound when you beg, that was not an answer to the question I asked, _schatz_. Try again.”

“ _No_ ,” Essek sobs in frustration. He _wants_ , but he cannot lie, not to Caleb, not here. “No I haven’t.”

“Very good.” Caleb pets his thigh, and Essek keens, an undignified sound, unbefitting someone of his station, but _gods_ , has anyone ever felt so _much_ before?

Every moment that passes, he’s sure he can’t bear any more, and yet he does, his body complicit in his suffering. Caleb’s pace never quickens, never changes, and at a certain point Essek finds himself letting go. He stops pushing, stops vying for the control he hadn’t really wanted in the first place, and lets Caleb proceed as he wishes.

“Oh, very good, _schatz_ , look at you.” Caleb draws an oiled fingertip up the underside of Essek’s cock, and all Essek can bring himself to do is shudder with the want that courses through him.

Caleb backs up before casting again, using the same spell as at the beginning, and Essek sighs into the hold of Caleb’s magic around him as it cradles and lifts him from the still-immoveable cushions. He’s guided towards the oversized chair, where Caleb is already sitting, and lowered gently to straddle Caleb’s lap. The scratch of fabric on sensitized skin makes his nerves sizzle, and Essek groans as he tilts forward, burying his face into the crook of Caleb’s neck. A hand lands on the back of his neck, clever fingers scratching lightly through the hair at his nape, and Essek finds himself melting further against Caleb’s chest.

“If you’d rather we finish the evening this way, that is fine,” Caleb murmurs quietly, words barely more than a quiet hum. “If, however, you’d like a bit more, I am amenable.”

Arousal spikes through Essek sharply, previously banked embers roaring to life with Caleb’s words. He doesn’t beg, not like before; he lets himself whine, mouthing at Caleb’s cloth-covered collarbones. Beneath him, Caleb laughs, and smooths a hand down Essek’s spine before tapping his fingers at his flank.

“Up a moment, _schatz_.”

Thoughts slow and hazy, it takes him a moment to gather Caleb’s meaning, but when he does Essek pushes himself up to his knees. It’s not easy with his legs spread to either side of Caleb’s hips, even narrow as they are, but Caleb doesn’t make him wait long. Caleb’s hands are sure as ever, quick, efficient movements unfastening the front of his trousers before he takes himself in-hand and draws his cock out.

Shuddering, Essek imagines how they must look, him naked, bound, ass darkened from his spanking and looking utterly ruined while Caleb sits, clothed, composed, and in-control. Heat flashes over Essek’s skin, pooling in his gut as he waits, watching Caleb for permission. Caleb’s hand is on his hip, positioning him, and there’s the nudge at his entrance, and at Caleb’s nod Essek lets himself sink down.

He goes perhaps a little faster than Caleb would have preferred, if the look Caleb is shooting him is anything to go by, but he’s been waiting so very long, and it feels so _good_ to have Caleb in him, filling him up. He rests there a moment, with Caleb fully-seated within him and enjoys it, the stretch and fullness and _heat_ of it- Caleb’s always felt so warm to him- before he feels the rumble of another laugh bubble up through Caleb’s chest.

“If you are hoping for something to happen, you are going to have to work for it, _Nachtblüte_. You aren’t yet done.”

Essek’s breath rushes out of him in a shaking whine before he pushes himself up to his knees only to drop back down again. It’s not long before his thighs tremble with exertion, and he only hopes they will hold out long enough for him to get what he wants. He carries on, up and down and up and down, the slide of Caleb’s cock inside him delicious and a torment, his own cock hard and leaking between them, ignored. He does take satisfaction in the fact that Caleb’s composure is finally cracking, his breathing quickened, face flush, lips bitten and red.

His legs shake, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can force them to continue, to obey his desperate need to fuck himself on Caleb’s cock; the spirit is infinitely willing, but the body, _oh_ , the body is thrumming and desperate and _tired_.

“You are doing so well,” Caleb says, voice strained yet approving. “Up, one more time, _schatz_.” He helps Essek up and off his cock, much to Essek’s dismay, but helps him over to the mound of cushions once more. He lays Essek back, gets him comfortable as he can, and Caleb lines himself up before driving in with a snap of his hips.

Essek’s not proud of the sound he makes when Caleb thrusts home, but he’s beyond caring how he sounds; in this moment, all is perfect. Caleb’s fingers find his hips and hold on, grip bruising as he uses the leverage to drive in, fucking Essek down into the cushions beneath. Time seems to dilate, and Essek vaguely wonders if Caleb's cast something without him noticing. He feels good- no, _better_ than good- even if everything feels oddly distant. He’s gotten here before, though infrequently, this space in his head where there’s warmth, and a drifting, peaceful calm. Things no longer feel so dire, his arousal no longer so urgent. What grounds him are Caleb’s hands on him, anchoring him, as he chases and finds his own release.

He floats, content, in his thoughts, even as he’s vaguely aware of Caleb carefully pulling out, cleaning him up with the soft fizz he associates with a casting of Prestidigitation.

A quiet huff of laughter to his side, and a warm hand on his chest, pressing down, and it’s only then he realizes there’s nothing under his back.

It rouses him enough he falls back to the cushions in surprise, blinking up at Caleb. He’s smiling, soft and fond, and the sense of peace washes over Essek again like a wave.

“I think you’ve served your penance admirably.” Caleb’s thumb sweeps over Essek’s skin, skimming over the bumps of his ribs. “Would you like to come, _liebling_? I believe you’ve more than earned it.”

Essek blinks at him, slowly. His arousal, which had seemed so distant just a seconds ago is back now, banked and awaiting the spark of Caleb’s touch to ignite anew. He hadn’t thought it important a moment ago, but now that it’s on offer, Essek finds he can think of little else.

“Please, yes, if you think-” He doesn’t know how he intends to finish the sentence, and is thankful he doesn’t have to; Caleb leans down and catches his mouth in a kiss as his hand skates down over Essek’s belly to grip his cock. The touch is electric, Essek’s hips jerking up into it as it pulls a cry from him, muffled by Caleb’s lips.

It’s an almost embarrassingly-short length of time before Essek is spilling across Caleb’s fist with a strangled sound, but considering all he’s endured over the evening, it’s unsurprising. Caleb works him through it until Essek twitches and whimpers with oversensitivity, drawing his hand back to wipe on a nearby pillow. Essek’s breathing is still quick, though slowing by the moment, and he’s glad when Caleb stays at his side, the warmth of him soothing as the touch of Caleb’s hand where it pets his thigh.

“How are you feeling, _schatz_?” The words are a murmur, buzzing at the skin of Essek’s shoulder.

He takes a moment to consider it, long-past the days where he’d give a flippant answer. He feels empty, but in a good way, scraped clean and, for now at least, absolved and at peace.

“I feel, good, I think. Thank you, Caleb.”

Caleb hums against his shoulder, placing a kiss there before urging Essek to roll to his side so Caleb can begin the process of undoing the ropework. It’s quick, much faster to take the ropes off than to put them on, and soon Caleb is helping to ease Essek’s arms around to his front again, to lay him back more comfortably. Rubbing his thumbs over Essek’s wrists, Caleb takes in the light chafing there, and the imprints up Essek’s arms from the press of the ropes.

“I’ll put some balm on this shortly,” Caleb says, and Essek can only nod in acknowledgement. Caleb always takes such good care of him, even if he doesn’t think he needs or deserves it. He doesn’t feel the burn from the ropes, not really, and the ache in his shoulders a fleeting thing, though he knows from experience he’ll feel it later; it will be a sweet ache, though. For now, he lets himself snuggle further down into the pile of cushions, lets Caleb pull him close, revels in the feel of Caleb’s arms around him, and lets himself be.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Alles gut?_ all is well?  
>  _Nachtblüte-_ \- night bloom
> 
> _"You were the brightest shade of sun I had ever seen  
>  Your skin was gilded with the gold of the richest kings  
> And like the dawn you woke the world inside of me  
> You were the brightest shade of sun when I saw you_
> 
> _At last, and you will surely be the death of me_  
>  _But how could I have known?"_ \- Like the Dawn, The Oh Hellos


End file.
